


A Short Trip Across The Face

by colazitron



Category: Union J (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times George kisses someone and it doesn't go anywhere and one time it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Trip Across The Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimmyarrowshigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/gifts).



 

**Caroline**

 

It surprises George, a bit, that he’s the one holding up under the pressure of being stood here in front of Louis Walsh and waiting for their verdict. Maybe it’s because he’s used to it. To feeling anxious and nervous and terrified even but trying to appear strong. Josh is a bit of crier, he’s figured that out over the last few days, so he’s not surprised that he seems on the verge of tears here. Jaymi looks worse for wear as well and JJ’s almost as bad as Josh though, so George bites his finger a little harder and tries for a reassuring pressure on JJ and Josh’s backs with his hand. He’s not entirely sure whose hands are on him but one of them is shaking a little.

When the “you’re through” comes, it’s like there’s instant static in his brain. He’s aware that he’s shouting and running for Louis Walsh, aware that the other three are as well, aware that Josh’s back slips from his fingers and that he’s not in their first huddled hug so that must mean he broke off somehow but he can’t do anything but shout and hug and be ecstatic. He loves these three boys fiercely in those moments, feels like he’ll never feel anything as intense as this ever again in his life.

But the moments passed and now, a few hours later, George needs to break away from them. Jaymi has gone to skype Olly, JJ to find the hotel bar, since he can and Josh. It’s not that George doesn’t like Josh. Josh is a decent guy. There’s a tension between them though that’s not entirely good, bred from being too alike and too different. George knows Josh knows it too and so they only tentatively try to get along. Right now it’s more important that they make the band work than getting to anything resembling a friendship. If the band works for long enough they’ll get there eventually. So most of their interactions are... polite, but distant. Right now, George is too raw to deal with polite but distant and he’s sure that Josh is as well since when he’s last seen him they shot each other shaky smiles that communicated exactly that. “We made it, I’m so happy, I can’t be around you right now.” It’s ironic how well they understand each other some times and how completely foreign they are to each other at others.

Either way, George wanders the halls of the hotel alone, trying to catch his breath and calm his heartbeat, both still feeling a little out of whack from earlier that day. Maybe it shouldn’t last that long, but then George thinks this is one of his single most life-changing moments, so he can’t be blamed for it, surely? In the end, he decides that fresh air is probably a good idea and wanders up to the rooftop terrace.

The first breath fills up his lungs and even though it’s not as cool as he’d wanted, it’s still refreshing. His thoughts and heart settle a bit and he goes from a sort of dull and yet manic overdrive that feels like absolutely nothing to a giddy sort of happiness in the span of a few heartbeats. They’re through. They’re through.

“Hello, Gorgeous George,” a soft voice comes from behind him and George whirls around, heartbeat spiking again.

“Caroline.”

“Hi,” she says and comes up to him, mimicking his position and resting her forearms on the railing to look out at the brightly lit city.

“What are you doing up here?” he asks, a little stunned and a possibly a little rude, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Saw you come up and thought you might want a bit of company?” she says and sends him a soft look that’s half playful and half guarded. She followed him? He can’t tell if she’s worried for him or just wanted a quick chat or.

“Alright,” he says, even though he came to be alone. He’s not going to say that to Caroline Flack though, is he? For one, as far as he knows, she’s the one who started the Gorgeous George thing and as weird as it is for him, he has no illusions about why they beat out Times Red. It’s not entirely down to pure talent. Nothing in showbusiness ever is and even if he’s not entirely comfortable with the sentiment, Gorgeous George gets him attention from the cameras, the producers, the judges. Caroline may not be on the judges panel but she can sway public opinion. Plus, she’s nice and he doesn’t want to be rude.

“Feeling okay then?” Caroline asks, still riding that edge between motherly concern and something George can’t make out but that very much isn’t that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just... a lot to take in.”

“I’d imagine,” she says and then falls into companionable silence. George finds he’s weirdly glad for her presence then. It makes him feel... connected, somehow. To the world. Like he’d just fall into his own head if she weren’t there to remind him that he’s not, in fact, the only person on the planet. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his fringe and he instinctively looks over at her when she moves to brush her own hair behind her ear as it gets tangled in the air. She smiles at him, softly and he smiles back, equally soft. Then she bumps her shoulder into his and he wonders if she’s been that close the entire time and how he didn’t notice.

“You’ll do fine, Gorgeous George. You have a band now. Does wonders for the soul.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, love.”

She’s still smiling at him and when she blinks a bit too slowly to be entirely unconscious, he thinks he could lean in now and kiss her and she’d kiss him back. He thinks he should, maybe, because it’s Caroline Flack and she’s lovely and rather pretty.

So he does.

She smiles against his lips like she has been expecting and even inviting it and George feels jitters flare up underneath his skin in a blind panic where he has absolutely no idea what to do next, but then she slides her hand up his arm and lets it rest against the side of his neck and, miraculously, he settles. He settles in to the warmth of her palm and the stickiness of her lips and when she opens her mouth, he does too. He takes his hands off the railing and turns to face her, placing one hand on her waist gently. When she moves in towards him, he takes it as permission and pulls her in a bit more, his grip on her more secure now. She feels small but not fragile in his hand and he buries the other one in her hair. He’s always liked a good head of hair.

It’s a surprisingly gentle kiss, even though he’s not quite sure why exactly that surprises him. After only a few moments she pulls back from him. He ducks his head a little, looking out at the night and the twinkling city and she huffs a light laugh and lets her hand fall down to rest on his arm.

“It’s a bit chilly, I’ll go back inside,” she says. She looks amused, a bit mischievous, but there’s something just as gentle to her smile as her kiss was.

“Good night,” she adds and leans in to peck him clear on the cheek.

“Good night,” he calls out after her belatedly and she turns around to wink at him over her shoulder before vanishing back inside. He takes a deep breath and returns to staring out at the city, enjoying the noise and the bright lights and letting it take him away from himself for a bit  


 

**Harry**

 

He’d probably be more nervous or giddy about or even interested in the fact that they get to meet One Direction for a bit today, if he weren’t absolutely bricking it at thoughts of their performance later. Last week was absolutely horrendous, there is really no two ways about it. George isn’t entirely sure why they weren’t just laughed out of the competition and he’s absolutely desperate to prove today that they do deserve to be here, that them being picked for the live shows over Times Red wasn’t a terrible decision.

Rehearsals had been going alright, but that’s what they thought last week too and then somehow. God, George doesn’t even know what happened, but he could tell during their performance that they just sounded off. And then watching and listening back to the recording was absolutely horrible. None of them had said anything about it in the moment, but the way they’d each reiterated how important it was to get it right this week made it pretty clear that they were all thinking the same thing. There could absolutely not be a repetition of last week. Another performance like that and they’re sure to be sent home.

So, yeah, no offense to One Direction, but he thinks they’d actually probably understand the lack of attention he can pay them. Judging by their shaky smiles, his bandmates aren’t entirely focussed on One Direction either. He very much doubts all these nerves are just for them. Sure, they’re famous and all, but they’re just boys. They’re not even older than them, most of them are younger. The only intimidating thing about them is their absurd level of success and all that makes George want to do is grab them and shake them until they tell him how they did it, even if he thinks they’d probably be unable to tell him. Sometimes these things just work out; a lucky combination of chemistry, talent and looks that sparks something amazing and then. Well. Then One Direction happens.

And also, well. It’s only been about two weeks, but George is pretty sick of being “the new Harry Styles”. He doesn’t want to be the new anyone. Maybe the new George, but he quite liked the old George, so there’s no reason for that. He’s just so sick of it. Of other people deciding who or what he is based on what he wears or what shape his body has or how he smiles or sings or anything, really. He wishes people would stop putting him in boxes he never asked for. He knows it’s probably somewhat of a compliment, after all Harry is rather universally beloved, but George isn’t Harry, has no desire to be Harry and would quite like everyone to stop comparing them. It’s not that he blames Harry for any of that but. It’s basically impossible not to catalogue all of the differences between them everytime he sees his face somewhere.

A part of him wonders if anyone has told Harry about how there’s a “new him” and worries that he maybe won’t measure up to whatever Harry’s expecting. He doesn’t like that part.

When they get ushered into a room with a small camera team and told to look alive because One Direction are going to be here any moment, George finds nerves and excitement blooming in his stomach against his expectations.

“Guys,” Jaymi says and they all share a grin of similar anticipation, before the door does indeed open to admit the five boys that have shot to international superstardom in the past two years. God, two years, George thinks and from the smiles on their faces he thinks that One Direction are probably having similar thoughts. It must be strange to be back here on the other side of things so soon.

There’s the obligatory hellos and handshakes and smiles for the camera that’s trained on them and it’s... surreal, somehow. The One Direction boys are already all made up for their appearance on stage, or maybe still made up from the last thing they did, George isn’t entirely certain, but they seem genuinely relaxed.

“Just have fun,” Liam says when they ask for advice as expected. “You know you can sing the song, you’ve been practicing it all week, so just have fun.”

George almost wants to laugh hysterically because how are they supposed to have fun when last week happened? The way Jaymi looks over at them he seems to think the same thing.

“No, literally, just have as much fun as you can,” Louis says then, seemingly catching on to their scepsis. “Be yourselves the whole time.

They all smile at them like they mean it and, well, it’s not like their performance can really get any worse than last week, is it. And, George knows, part of why people love One Direction so much is precisely because they always seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves on stage. It’s infectious, so it’s probably actually good advice.

“Also, don’t let them cut your hair,” Harry adds with a cheeky smirk and George giggles in response. Giggles. Harry’s eyes meet his for a brief moment, sparkling like a fucking anime character, and George hopes to god the hot flush in his cheeks isn’t visible. Jaymi puts a comforting palm on his back and Louis smiles at him bemusedly, but not unkindly, probably more because someone actually laughed at Harry’s joke than because of the noise he just made. Then it’s time to say goodbye again and there’s a flurry of handshakes and half-hugs and good luck wishes. George takes two things from it - a giddy, almost confident excitement for performing later on and the fact that all of One Direction smell great.

He doesn’t expect to run into any of them again later, but he comes across Harry in one of the corridors backstage, slipping out of - ah, Caroline’s dressing room.

“Any off camera advice?” he asks, before he can think better of it. Harry grins at him and shifts his weight onto one foot, stance relaxed. He gives George a once over that feels more... more than George thinks it should.

“Really don’t let them cut your hair.”

“Seriously?” George asks, disbelief colouring his voice. Harry laughs.

“You’re Gorgeous George, yeah? Caroline’s told me about you. You’re all fit lads. ‘s not enough to win, but it helps get votes. The sooner you stop pretending it doesn’t, the better.”

Well, George has certainly not expected this level of candid.

“And don’t let the whole ‘the next me’ bother you,” Harry says and steps closer, putting a big palm on George’s shoulder and squeezing. Harry’s rather tall. “I’ve been the next Robbie Williams and Liam’s been the next Gary Barlow and we’ve been the next Take That and McFly and Beatles and what-have-you. Just focus on being the first, uh...”

“Union J.”

“Yeah, that.”

The way Harry smiles at him, George has to remind himself that he’s actually younger than him. He seems so... old, in that moment. Worldly.

“You’ll be alright,” Harry says, hand still on George’s shoulder. His smile dims down into something more genuine and almost... intimate and George finds his eyes flicking down to Harry’s lips briefly. If the quirk to them is any indication, Harry catches him at it, but when George looks back up at his eyes, all he sees there is a curious kind of pause, like Harry’s waiting to see what he’s going to do. George’s breath stutters.

“Well?” Harry says, lips curling in a teasing smile now.

“I,” George starts, even though he has no idea where to go with it. “Can I?”

Harry drags his gaze down George’s body deliberately before meeting his eyes again and suddenly George gets why people go crazy for Harry Styles. The way he lowers his lashes over his eyes makes him look sultry like a smokey bar room and George feels warmth trickle into his belly like a neat whiskey.

“Alright,” Harry says and it’s only that one word, one throwaway word, nothing special to it. But his voice is low and as much a purr as humanly possible and George grabs the lapels of his blazer to pull himself in and press their lips together. George’s toes curl in his shoes at the first touch. Harry’s hands feel far hotter than they are on the naked skin of his wrists before they stroke up his arms and George still feels the touch sizzle there when Harry’s thumbs trace over his cheeks oh-so-slowly and his fingers curl underneath the line of his jaw and behind his ears like George is the cat.

A sound gets stuck in George’s throat and Harry’s lips twitch in what George assumes is a smile before he lets his tongue curl behind George’s upper lip. George thinks about getting closer but Harry pulls back a bit and kisses him again briefly, more of a peck, really, and it’s clear that it’s over. George blinks his eyes open and steps back and the moment’s gone.

“See you around,” Harry says and steps back.

“Yeah,” George says and resolutely doesn’t watch him go.

  


**Josh**

 

They’re having perhaps a bit too much fun at Rylan’s party, considering that they have a curfew and then a wake-up call and more practice than George thought physically possible. But it just feels so amazingly great to let go for at least a few hours. He hasn’t really noticed how stressed and wound up he’s been feeling, but now that there’s a bit of an alcoholic buzz prickling in his veins and music that he doesn’t have to focus on thumping in his ears he suddenly feels utterly exhausted. He thinks if he stopped laughing and jumping around and not-really-dancing he’d probably just fall asleep right where he’s standing. Drop to the floor and be out like a light and not even notice if any of the others stumbled over his unconscious body.

Jaymi’s brought Olly and they’re sitting together in a corner, a drink in hand each, bent together and whispering. They’re absolutely adorable and George feels a smile flicker over his face. He’s glad they get to be together tonight. He’s not sure how different it is to do something like this without the support of someone you’ve gotten used to supporting you. Not that Olly doesn’t support them, it’s just a long-distance kind of support. It must be strange, he thinks, if you’re used to someone’s presence, to not have that anymore. He misses his family and friends at home enough as is and he thinks it’s probably a little different, when it’s your finacé you’re missing.

“What are we looking at,” Josh says, sliding an arm around his middle and resting his head on his shoulder. Things between them have been getting progressively easier. They’d gotten over their period of sniffing each other out and now, tentatively, George would say that they’re friends. Whereas in the beginning he’d’ve said that Josh was the one more wary of him, he seems to have gotten over it quicker as well, like now that he’s decided that he likes George, he’s not gonna bother with a slow climb into a friendship, just full on raced up that hill. It’s a bit weird for George still. He expects one of Josh’s cold looks to be turned his way any moment, but it never really comes anymore. There’s increasingly more exasperated fondness and George is unsure if he should be offended or happy about that.

“Ah, the happy couple.” Josh says it like it means a lot more than just what he’s saying.

“What?” George asks. Josh leans back and grabs both of his shoulders, turning him around so he can look him in the eyes. Josh’s are a bit glassy already and when George tries shaking one of his hands off just to see what will happen, Josh sways a bit. George grins but instinctively puts out a hand to steady him. Josh is warm.

“All will be well,” Josh says, like he’s imparting the wisdom of the world on him.

“What?” George repeats, this time on a little giggle. There’s nothing wrong with him. What’s Josh even on about? Possibly he’s even more drunk than George assumed just then.

“Jaymi. And Olly. And your crush. It’ll pass.”

“What?” George says for a third time. “I don’t have a crush on Jaymi.”

“You do. But it’s okay. Everyone does a little. I did too, at one point.”

That genuinely surprises George. Josh hadn’t seemed the type to him. Well, he’d just generally not seemed very affectionate.

“Mm-hm,” Josh says, like George’s disbelief is written all over his face. Judging by the hike his eyebrows took up his forehead, it probably is. “Jaymi’s like a gateway drug. If you’re even a little predisposed to blokes, you’ll have a crush on him. But it’s fine. He’s nice about it.”

“You- you’re... predisposed to blokes?”

“Apparently,” Josh says, like it doesn’t matter. “I had a crush on Jaymi, at any rate. And so do you. JJ never did, otherwise we’d have a full set.”

George has to laugh at that.

“You’re really drunk.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

“We should get you back to your room.”

“Hm, yes,” Josh agrees. “Probably should.”

“Alright,” George says, looking around for JJ. He doesn’t particularly feel like breaking up Jaymi and Olly’s canoodling but he figures he should tell someone that Josh and he are taking off. He doesn’t find him, but Rylan’s passing them by, so George reaches out to grab his arm.

“Georgie!” Rylan more shouts than says. Josh laughs into George’s shoulder where he’s leaning into his back. George feels a bit like he’s having an out of body experience because how did this ever become his life?

“Great party. I’ll be taking this one back to the room though,” George says with a sly smile and points his thumb at Josh. Rylan pats Josh’s waning quiff and then gives George a hair ruffle as well.

“Alright, dolls. Hope you’ve had your fun.”

“Bit too much of it, I think,” George laughs and then winds an arm around Josh, pulling him up from behind himself and steers him back to their room.

“Geo-orge,” Josh sing-songs on their way to the elevator.

“Yes?”

“Hey, George?”

“Yes?”

“Geoooorgie?”

“What?” George asks, going for harsh and ending up with a bit of a giggle. Josh laughs as well.

“You should stay with me. Cause I’m well pissed.”

George looks at Josh and his glassy eyes, the sloppy smile and the way he’s dragging his feet. He’s probably right. Just to be on the safe side. And also because “X-Factor contestant found dead in pool of own vomit; bandmate sound asleep” makes for a headline he’d rather avoid.

“Yeah, alright,” he says. “You should stay in mine then. Let JJ have the room to himself. Jaymi and Olly won’t come back to ours anyway.”

Josh hums happily and wobbles alongside George down the corridor to his room. Wrestling Josh out of his clothes so he’ll be comfortable enough to sleep turns out to be a bit more of an ordeal than George had anticipated because Josh seems to decide to revert back to a giggly five-year-old and fights him every step of the way. It’s rather difficult to be mad at someone when you’re happily buzzed yourself and they’re laughing like a little child though, so George makes him drink a glass of water, take a piss and then leaves him be and goes to brush his teeth. Let Josh deal with how disgusting he’ll feel by himself come morning.

By the time he crawls into bed next to him, Josh is snuggled up under the blanket, with only the top of his head visible and a stark contrast to the white fabric. George allows the smile to flit over his face before turning out the light and rolling over onto his side. He’s never liked how facing away from someone you’re sharing a  bed with feels and he sleeps better on his side anyway.

“Hey, George?” Josh whispers and then there’s the rustling of fabric that, combined with the way the mattress wobbles, means Josh is shifting closer.

“Hm?” George answers and blinks his eyes back open, staring through the darkness and waiting to adjust to it. Josh’s knee bumps into his, so he must be really close.

“You’ll be alright,” Josh says and his breath feels hot on George’s face and smells of alcohol. George huffs a little laugh anyway.

“I know,” he says and then laughs again when Josh bumps his nose against his in a little eskimo kiss.

“You don’t have to worry,” George adds, because Josh seems to and Josh makes a little noise in his throat that could mean absolutely anything really and then tilts his head and fits their lips together. It’s not much of a kiss and George breaks it after only a second or two and puts his hands up against Josh’s chest to keep him away.

“Snog could help,” Josh says as if in explanation. George laughs because he sounds so drunkenly earnest.

“Just sleep,” he says and pats the t-shirt under his hand.

“Okay,” Josh says happily. He stays right where he is, tucked up close to George and George pushes the blankets down a bit so they won’t wake up from being too warm as he listens to Josh’s breath even out. Seriously, how is this his life now?

  


**Ella**

 

It’s easier to enjoy being on the X-Factor tour once they have their record deal. Signed, sealed, delivered, all theirs. Luckily, they don’t have to wait long, but since they’re not actually under any obligation to Syco and there are other labels interested, they have a bit of deciding to do. George mostly just shrugs when asked for his opinion. He’s no expert on record labels and what being signed to which one would mean. Actually, he doesn’t have the first clue about it. He wants the one that gives them the best deal, whichever one that may happen to be.

In the end, Jaymi makes the decision, although Josh and JJ are more involved in it than George is. They’ve all thought about this before, whereas he really more stumbled into this as if by accident. Sure, he auditioned on purpose and he agreed to join Triple J and he tried his hardest to get them as close to the finale as possible, but he never actually thought further than that. Never further than actually making it far enough to be on this tour and maybe to get into the finale. Win it, in his wildest dreams, but then their contract would be sorted for them, wouldn’t it. So all this negotiating  isn’t something he ever prepared for, not even a bit.

He does breathe easier once they’ve signed though, because until then he’s still felt like someone could pop up any moment and take it all away again. Having a signed, legally binding document about how they get to be a real band makes him feel a little more like all this is now his reality. It’s his job now to sing and play guitar and be a popstar. It’s absurd. George’s resumé would read “barista, popstar”. That just doesn’t happen, does it?

Ella assures him it does. Whenever she finds him roaming the halls of whatever arena - arena - they’re playing that day she laughs and takes him by the arm to bring him with her to hair and make-up or to get some food or listen to her soundcheck or anything to get him out of his head. He’s thankful for it as well. He doesn’t like how stuck he feels when he’s left to his own thoughts for too long.

The other good thing about tour and about having Ella back is that there aren’t cameras following their every move here. Their occasional move, sure, but not every little step they take. So if he spends a bit more time with Ella than he does anyone else, then no one really notices. Or at least, the only people who do notice don’t care. There’s no one there to ask him about being in love with Ella or Ella having his babies or anything else. They can just be George and Ella, just hang out together and have fun and take care of each other. It’s fun and it’s easy and it’s probably a large part of why it’s easier for George to breathe when Ella’s around.

It doesn’t mean that the whole Gella thing never enters his mind. It does, sometimes. Sometimes he’ll look at her and think that she’s pretty and wonder if it’s on his face and if that is what made people think that they’re in love with each other. He knows he’s in awe of her talent and that’s definitely on his face when he watches her sing, but he doesn’t really understand how that would mean he has feelings for her other than friendship and admiration of her singing. Everyone looks at Ella like she’s the best, when she sings. Or at least they should, George thinks. She is the best at singing, at least out of their year of contestants. It still irks him that she’d been gone from the show too soon. Much as he loved having come fourth, it somehow felt like less of a victory whenever he remembered that people like Ella, with more raw talent than them, had gone home earlier than they did. Then he remembers what Harry Styles said that one time; that the sooner he stopped pretending their pretty faces didn’t get them places, the better. He feels the truth of that statement sting whenever he thinks of Ella’s elimination.

“Oy! Earth to George. You still in there?”

Ella snaps her fingers in George’s face a few times and laughs at him when he blinks rapidly and shakes himself out of his thoughts.

“Where’ve you gone off to then,” she asks, sitting back upright in her chair and shooting an apologetic smile at her hair stylist.

“Just thinking,” George says.

“About?” she asks.

“Things.”

“Wow, that’s not vague and evasive at all, George, I’m so glad we had this talk. I’m honoured by your trust, truly. I feel so close to you now.”

George laughs and reaches out to pat her on the hair. He’s learned the hard way that the hair and make-up ladies will make his life a living hell if he messes with Ella’s hair after it’s been carefully styled for the night. The hairdresser slaps his hand away but rolls her eyes fondly at his smile. Ella looks at him expectantly for a good handful of seconds longer before she sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“It’s not important, Ella. I just like how life’s a lot less hectic now. Which seems like a stupid thing to say, considering...” He trails off, waving his hand about to indicate everything around them. It’s not that life’s not hectic at all or course, but the tour schedule is somehow more forgiving. Or maybe it’s just the rush of performing so much without the impending judgement and possibility of being sent home. Sure, they give their best on stage anyway, but they’re far more willing to play around a bit, let loose, have fun.

Ella smiles at him; that smile that makes her look quite a bit older than she is.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she says. “It’s nice not to be under quite that much scrutiny.”

“Yeah,” he says and smiles back, thinking ‘exactly’. She goes back to chatting to her hairstylist and George goes back to his thoughts and wonderings. He looks at her face in the mirror, her smooth skin and high cheeks and lets his eyes wander over her hair, pulled back loosely and piled half on top of her head in a way that looks messy and effortless and is anything but. Her stage outfit isn’t really like how she dresses normally, but it suits her, he thinks. He likes the colours on her anyway; the blue and purple and coppery gold. The dop of her waist would be a lovely place to put his hand, he thinks. It’d be nice, kissing her, probably.

When he looks back up to her face, their eyes lock. She looks a little shy and flustered and he knows she’s caught him looking. Instead of looking away, he gives her a smile and she tentatively smiles back at him.

It’s not long after that that Josh comes to find him for their own date with styling and he stands and squeezes her shoulder a little.

“See you later,” he smiles and she smiles back. From the eyebrows Josh lifts at him out in the hall he can tell it’s noticeably unusual. George lifts his own eyebrow right back, daring Josh to comment. Josh doesn’t. He sighs and rolls his eyes and then looks at George with an expression that would melt even the iciest heart. Probably could’ve saved The Titanic, that look.

“Don’t mess her about. She deserves better. Especially from you.”

“I’m not,” George says. He doesn’t intend to lead her on, just to see if there’s something to them. Josh looks a little doubtful and george is about to protest the insinuation that he’d be that guy, but then Josh’s face softens and he sighs again. This time, it’s followed by an “alright”, a smile and a ruffle of George’s hair. It’s a good thing they’ve not had theirs styled yet, because George’s is a case of looks-real-easy-but-actually-takes-a-lot-of-work as well.

Jaymi and JJ are already there, having their hair toyed with and their faces painted. So is Olly. Well, there. Not having his face painted. The twinge in George’s stomach when Olly makes Jaymi laugh is nothing. Indigestion maybe. He settles into the chair he gets pushed into and the familiar atmosphere and smiles.

The laughter and jokes carry all the way onto stage and translate into the performance particularly well that night and George is still bouncing and laughing when he runs off stage, dragging Ella along by the wrist

“George,” she giggles and means ‘slow down’ and ‘where are we going?’ and ‘what’s gotten into you?’. George pulls her around a few corners and starts trying random rooms, flicking on the lights and closing the door behind them when he finds an open and empty one. One of the two lights doesn’t turn on, but the other one brightens the room enough.

“What are you doing?” Ella asks, but she’s still smiling and she looks a little apprehensive, like she maybe knows what he’s doing. Instead of an answer, he drops her hand and puts his on the dip of her waist, exactly the spot he thought he’d fit. He does. He supposes that’s nothing monumental, but it makes him smile anyway. He steps closer to her.

“Okay?” he asks, peering down at her. She nods and licks her lips. He can see her swallow. He doesn’t bother pushing the strand of hair behind her ear, just slides it in between his fingers and cups her head in his hand. She tilts her face up and wraps her arms around his neck and then almost suddenly his eyes are closed and they’re kissing.

It’s a nice kiss. Her lips are soft and she’s sweet and enthusiastic. She spends a long while on just his lips and he likes it. He likes someone who can appreciate a good snog and doesn’t just rush through it as a precursor to some other “main” event. When their tongues come into the play, he huffs a heavy breath through his nose and feels her smile briefly against his mouth.

It’s a nice kiss, but it doesn’t give him butterflies. He pulls her closer, but he doesn’t have a problem letting her go when she pulls back either. She pecks his lips a final time and drops her arms. He does too.

“Sorry, George. It’s a no from me,” she says and he blinks at her owlishly before laughing. After a heartbeat she joins him and he slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her against his side and peck her hair.

“Good,” he says.

  


**Olly**

 

George thinks it’s a bit strange that JJ’s moving in with Jaymi and Olly. Jaymi and Olly who are engaged. To be married. And have been for years now. Why the hell would they want JJ to live with them? It’s not like they all live together or something. Josh and he don’t even live close. It’s not really his place to comment though and he doesn’t want Josh looking at him like he’s worried about this stupid thing with Jaymi that George may or may not have to confess in the confines of his own mind has somehow, despite his best efforts, grown into a bit of a crush. It’s not like it’s a really intense crush and it’s not like George is ever going to do anything about it. But Josh seems to think that George has outlasted the limits of a normal everyone-has-a-crush-on-Jaymi and now he seems to worry about George. George honestly thinks that Josh should cut him some slack here. He's sure no one else has ever had to basically live with Jaymi while being on The X-Factor. That's extenuating circumstances, surely. It shouldn't count.

Andway. He doesn't say anything about how the whole situation is a bit odd to him, because he really doesn't know all that much about their friendships with each other yet, does he? He only knows them as bandmates. So when they ask him to help and carry a few boxes maybe, he agrees, because he's a good friend. And also because he suspects that he'll have to do it as well soon and then he can ask them to help in return. He doesn't ask why they didn't just pay people to carry their boxes for them. They have a bit of money now, it's not like it'd break their bank accounts and judging by the weight of the box George is currently hefting up the stairs he thinks this might break his back by the time they're done.

"Never again!" he swears loudly when he sets the box down in JJ's future room, much to the apparent amusement of everyone else.

"We're almost done," JJ says and shoots him a sympathetic smile. George pouts for show.

"I hope so. I'm sore in places I didn't know I could be."

"It's cause your arms are like limp spaghetti," Josh says and grabs George's wrist, shaking it and George's lax arm along with it.

"Everything about me is like limp spaghetti," George protests because there's not a single part of him that's made for carrying boxes and furniture up and down stairs. Olly snorts in amusement and Jaymi and JJ guffaw loud laughs. Josh presses his lips together in an effort not to laugh and George flushes hotly.

"You're all bullies and I don't like you," George says and pulls his wrist from Josh's grip, flouncing down the stairs again to get what he hopes will be one of what he'll be able to start referring to as "the last boxes". Josh catches up to him and bumps their shoulders together with a sweet smile that George finds himself returning automatically. It's not like he's really mad, just a tad embarrassed really. Mostly because he can't believe that he just walked right into that one.

"Take that one," Josh says and points to a huge box that says "coats" in Jaymi's handwriting, while he himself squats down to grab one of the smaller ones labelled "CDs". When George moves, he's definitely going to hire movers, he decides as he trudges up the stairs again.

Thankfully, they are done pretty soon after that and after all the boxes have found their way into the correct rooms as least, JJ and Olly drag Jaymi down onto the living room floor to where Josh and George are already spread out on their backs on the floor and - in George's case - trying to get their breath and body temperature back down to normal and demand that he stop. With a last bit of token grumbling, Jaymi agrees and Olly and JJ get out their phones to find a restaurant close to their new home that would offer delivery service.

"Indian okay?"  JJ finally asks. George had been leaning towards pizza himself, but now that he's heard the suggestion, all he can think about are samosas. Juicy, warm samosas. And mint chutney. He closes his eyes and tries to remember where that was that he'd eaten that truly absurdly good mint chutney. He can't seem to pinpoint it exactly, but his mouth waters with the memory of it.

"Samosas," he says, instead of an actual answer.

"Roti prata and curry," Josh says almost reverently and with just enough of a foreign inflection to the words that George looks over at him curiously. Josh seems to feel his gaze on him, as he turns to grin at George.

"You'll love it," Josh says confidently.

"Josh knows his South-East-Asian cuisine," Jaymi says on an eyeroll.

"Excuse me for being cultured," Josh says with a fake put upon huff. Jaymi's about to say something back when JJ shushes them as he's on the phone to the Indian place to relay their order.

"Get naan too," Josh whisper shouts at JJ who waves him off like he didn't need the reminder. To tide them over the wait for their food, they break open a couple of beers that - with the food - turn into a couple more and then a bottle of vodka and - after the food is well and truly gone - a few shots of tequila just for the fun of it. George finds himself lying on the floor again, head pillowed on Josh's thigh. Well. He's reasonably certain it's Josh's thigh but when he tries to tilt his head back to make sure, he feels bile rise into his throat as the world hops off its axis, so he's not sure. A more sober George would probably just look around their circle and realise that since he can see Olly and Jaymi hanging off each other and JJ licking out his shot glass, it has to be Josh, but George isn't more sober. George is pleasantly caught in a state between tipsy and really, really drunk. The kind where he thinks he's only tipsy until he attempts any kind of movement. Or rational thought.

He makes a displeased noise as another dizzy spell catches him and then a pleased one when Josh starts gently carding his fingers through his hair.

"Aw, look how cute," Olly coos.

"Georgie's a sweet one," Jaymi says.

"A pretty one too. Ever consider a threesome, Shelley?" Olly asks and laughs when Jaymi playfully shoves him.

"No hitting on the bandmates, I've told you," Jaymi reprimands, but he's grinning so it doesn't carry much weight.

"Not even a little kiss? 'be well sexy, I bet."

George's eyes go wide and he thinks that maybe if he stays very still on Josh's lap then they might forget that he's there.

"Don't think Georgie's into that, Olly," Jaymi says, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and shooting him a loaded look to get him to stop. They're all a bit past the point of picking up subtle clues though.

"Not even as a house warming gift?" Olly asks and it's such a terrible pun that George finds himself giggling. Olly delights at the reaction.

"See? He's up for it."

"I'm still not kissing George," Jaymi says resolutely and shoots George a smile and a look that George can't decipher at the moment. It's probably a sorry about my fiancé kind of deal.

"Well, if you won't, I will," Olly says and before George is really sure that he actually means it, Olly has crawled across the floor and is pulling him up by the arm. George is too bewildered to really do anything other than hold his weight up on his hands, his legs still curled up on the side from how he'd been lying before. Josh's hand is a warm weight on his back, almost like he's considering pulling George back. George doesn't know if he decides against it or if Olly is just faster, but next thing he knows, he's got lips on his. He's not sure if it counts as a kiss. There's lip contact involved, sure, and even a bit of motion, but JJ is hollering and Jaymi's laughing as well and then he's pulling Olly back and into a proper kiss that's definitely different from what just happened to George. Olly and Jaymi are laughing in each other's mouths on the living room floor in their new flat and George lets himself flop back down with his head going back to rest on Josh's thigh and pretends the alcohol is making him dizzier than it is. He's not miserable. Just drunk.

Josh heaves a heavy sigh and leans down till George can feel his breath brush his hair and ear. He hovers a moment but doesn't say anything, just sits back up and goes back to petting his hair and George is rather grateful for him.

He's done with this now, he thinks.

  


**Josh**

 

There's an eerie silence that falls over them once they've shut the camera off. It's not calm, by no means, but it's a strange kind of excitement that boils just underneath the surface. The tension in the air before a thunderstorm, maybe. It's this moment where they realise that this is actually happening. They actually just had their single title trend on number one worldwide even through what seemed to be One Direction and The Wanted fans in a fan war. They have a single title to trend. Because they have a single. They have a song that will be played on the radio that they recorded and that they're pretty much placing all their bets on. This one has to go out to the masses. They have to love it. This is what makes or breaks them and it's only one week away from happening.

"Um," George tries to say but just blinks helplessly when the other three turn to look at him. There must be something on his face though, because suddenly JJ is spreading out his arms to pull them all closer.

"Group hug," he declares in an almost solemn voice. Jaymi laughs a bit and George can't help his own giggle as they all dutifully step closer and wrap their arms around each other, pressing their heads into each other until George isn't entirely sure who ends or begins where anymore.

"We've got this," Jaymi finally says. "We have a great song and we sound fantastic on it and our fans love us. We've absolutely got this."

George feels a little weight lift off his shoulders and when they pull back out of the hug, they've each got matching grins on their faces. They stare at each other for a moment like they're watching the words sink in and then Jaymi reaches out his hands lightning fast and digs them into George's sides without any warning. George lets out a squeal he's not even embarrassed about anymore because they know he gets like this about being tickled and then falls into helpless cackling giggles. His knees give at some point and he has no chance of getting all six hands off him at once so he resorts to trying to writhe away from them and curling up into a tiny ball. Of course his nerve endings, traitors that they are, alight where ever the fuck he's being touched and it's only Jaymi and JJ's car having pulled up that makes them stop.

"I hate you all," he says, panting for breath and a manic grin on his face that he couldn't control if he tried. He doesn't, of course. He doesn't even hate when they tickle him as much because he trusts them to stop if he really asks.

"Of course you do," Jaymi says patronisingly and steps over him towards the door.

"See you lads tomorrow," JJ adds. George waves at them from his space on the floor and then closes his eyes and lets the tension drain out of his body.

"We should leave too," Josh says. George swings his arm around blindly and grabs Josh's ankle when he finds it.

"Don't wanna go home," he says and opens his eyes to add a pitiful pout up at Josh. Josh laughs at him and reaches down a hand to help him up.

"Come to mine then. Oreo misses you," Josh says and pulls George up like he weighs nothing. George is always surprised by how easily Josh can do that. He's not sure if he overestimates his own weight or underestimates Josh's muscles, but every single time Josh pulls or picks him up or piggy-backs him around, George is struck with a moment of wonder at how much it doesn't seem to faze him.

"Your cat is evil," George says. He's entirely sure that evil little black and white fluffball from hell does very decidedly not miss him.

"My kitten is a delight," Josh protests. Josh would think that. The little devil generally doesn't try to chew his toes off or claw at his hair and face. George actually likes cats, but this one is trying to kill him, he's sure of it.

"It's really not a kitten anymore, Josh," George says, mostly to annoy Josh. He gets weirdly huffy about it. It's like he thought he'd gotten a bonsai cat or something and it would stay tiny forever. Currently Oreo is in that transition phase where he's not entirely fully grown yet, but he's definitely getting there.

"Yes, it is," Josh says and pushes George towards the door.

"Is Jordan home?" George asks in a swift change of topic. Jordan likes him even less than Oreo does, George sometimes thinks. Maybe it's George's paranoia, but he's never sure that Jordan's jokes about fitting Union J better than George does because his name starts with a J at least are really just jokes.

"Don't think so, no. He was going home for a while, I think," Josh says. He, at least, doesn't seem to have picked up on any tension between them, if there is indeed any and George isn't imagining things. Once released from security, Josh starts down the road confidently and George just follows after him, a bit lost inside his own head and the exhaustion that's settling in now that the excitement is wearing off.

"Is it alright if we take the tube?" Josh asks when they wait for the light to change at the next intersection. "I felt like a bit of a walk."

"Yeah, sure," George says and shoots him a smile for good measure. Josh beams back, or what counts as beaming on Josh's face anyway, and leads them through the streets confidently. George isn't entirely sure where they even are or how Josh seems to know exactly where to go, but it's not like they have pressing matters to attend to or are traipsing around a particularly dangerous part of London, so he's not bothered. It's a little cooler three flights of stairs underground and George feels the skin on the back of his neck prickle with goosebumps.

"Cold?" Josh asks, brows furrowed. George shrugs.

"'s not bad," he says but when their train arrives Josh pushes him into one of the more cramped compartments anyway, pressing up close with a wink. It's either to lessen their chance of being recognised or to have an excuse to offer George a bit of body heat and George can't help but duck his head to hide his smile, because Josh would. They spend their journey in mostly companionable silence and George likes it best like that anyway. He listens in on the harried mother berating her twin boys for teasing their little sister who's strapped in a pram and can't do much against it except cry and whine her displeasure and he listens to two girls giggling over whatever they're looking at on one or the other's phone. There's a man in a suit with a heavy scowl on his face, headphones in his ears and phone in hand, his glare fixed on his screen. George thinks even if he had muffins to hand out, this man would scowl at him for the attempt and then stalk off.

Josh bumps his hip into him at their stop and leads him back up to the surface and then around a few corners to his flat. He's been here before, of course, but he's never taken the tube, so George finds himself looking up at the faces of the buildings they pass, taking in their different colours and heights and windows. He whines a bit about the elevator still being out of order because Josh lives on the fourth floor and Josh laughs at him and calls him a noodle. George swats at him and Josh evades the touch and pokes his tongue out childishly and they're chasing each other up eight flights of stairs and by the end of it George decides that was a very, very bad idea.

"We are never doing that again," he gasps, bent over while Josh unlocks his door. Josh laughs, but at least he sounds out of breath as well.

"Don't bend over," he says, looking back at George and stepping aside to let him into the flat. "Stand up straight and put your hands behind your head if you have trouble breathing.

George doesn't, really, he was mostly making a show of himself, because what good is running up four stories if you can't even make a bit of a spectacle of yourself? But he rolls his eyes and toes off his shoes and does as Josh said, taking dramatically deep breaths until he chokes on one of them and curls up again in a coughing fit. Josh snorts his amusement and pats him on the back consolingly before leaving him in the hall in favour of crossing the living room and getting something to drink in the kitchen. George hears the cupboard door open and close and then the tap and finally Josh call,

"You want something?"

George just coughs extra loudly in response and earns himself a laugh. The coughing stops after he holds his breath for a bit and tries to ignore the tickling-burning sensation in his throat, but before he can decide to follow Josh further into the apartment, Oreo comes strolling around the corner. He tilts his head at George curiously and then rubs himself up against his ankles, his tail coming up and his back forming a little hunch.

"Hey, biscuit," George says and leans down to pet Oreo's head. Possibly Oreo doesn't like him because he gives him ridiculous pet names, George thinks. This time though he only purrs at George's touch and rubs his face against his fingers. George makes a little cooing sound and decides to risk it and pick the half-grown cat up in his arms. Oreo, surprisingly, decides not to struggle for once and instead headbutts George in the chin, so George headbutts back and then they're rubbing their faces against each other.

"See?" Josh says, leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and the living room the George has stepped into with Oreo in his arms. "Told you he misses you."

George looks up and Oreo licks at his chin, drawing his attention back to the cat.

"Guess so," he grants. Josh has never been greedy about the affections of his cat, probably because he knows that when everyone goes home, he still gets to keep him, but he steps up to the two of them now and buries his fingers in the fur at Oreo's neck, making his purr deepen and his attention waver between the two of them. It's stupidly relaxing, standing there on the edge of Josh's living room with an armful of purring cat and Josh smiling softly down at said cat. It feels almost normal, like they do this every day even though George can count the number of times he's even been here on a little more than one hand. It's making him shift his weight onto the other foot and the hairs at the back of his neck stand up even though he doesn't feel cold at all.

"Maybe your cat's not a demon," George says to try and dispel whatever atmosphere's happening right now. Only his voice comes out a little bit too soft and it matches the smile still etched into the corners of Josh's lips.

"Maybe," he teases and George feels his own lips quirk in an answering smile without his permission.

"My cat's perfectly lovely," Josh adds and headbutts George gently himself. "You're the demon."

George would stick out his tongue at Josh, but Josh hasn't pulled back his head and with them leaning against each other like that he doesn't think it's a good idea.

"Am not," he says and then, mirroring Josh's earlier words, adds, "I'm a delight."

He expects Josh to laugh. Instead he he hums almost thoughtfully before agreeing. "You are."

The words trickle down George's spine with a hot, ticklish rush and he feels his smile fall and his eyes widen. Josh looks at him with what would be a too serious expression on anyone else, but may just be Josh's default face before nudging first their noses together and then, just a heartbeat or two later, their lips. It's a brief little kiss, not even a fully formed peck, more of a brush of Josh's lips against the corner of his mouth, but it's there and George knows, just somehow knows that it's not intended to be a cheeky, friendly thing. He freezes and his breathing goes flat and suddenly Oreo's continued purring between their chests is the only sound in the apartment. They stay suspended in that moment for a few seconds, neither moving or speaking. An ambulance passes a few streets over with blaring sirens.

Then Josh leans in again and this time it's more of a kiss. It goes on too long to be a peck and George is suddenly hyper-aware of the cold, wooden floor underneath his socks and the warmth of the vibrating little cat body against his chest and the places where he can feel Josh's hands on Oreo's body just from proximity. He makes a little squeaky noise in his throat that even he can't decipher.

"Please," Josh says, voice quiet and croaky and breaking halfway through the word before he leans in to kiss George a third time.

This time George tentatively kisses back and his whole body lights up when he feels Josh step just a bit closer. Oreo ends up pressed more tightly between their bodies, though he doesn't seem to mind yet. One of Josh's hands tangles with the fingers of George's own in the soft fur but then Josh is lifting Oreo out of George's hands and there's the soft thud that means Josh must've dropped him onto the floor. George's neck burns when Josh slides his hands along his cheekbones to cup his head and he shuffles yet a bit closer. He makes another confused sound and lifts his hands, weakly curling his fingers into Josh's t-shirt where it falls over his stomach.

One of Josh's hands drops to George's waist and he wraps his arm around him, pulling him forward and walking backwards himself, until Josh leans back onto the backrest of the sofa and George comes to stand in between his legs. It means Josh has to tilt his head up to continue kissing him, but he doesn't seem to mind, wrapping both arms around George's waist and holding him securely against his body. George really doesn't know what to do with himself, but he still feels like his ears are ringing and his skin must be radiating as much heat as Oreo was earlier and the only logical thing to do seems to be to wrap his arms around Josh's neck in return. So he does and when Josh opens his mouth, he follows and locks his knees in place when they threaten to go weak at the first touch of Josh's tongue.

Josh kisses him like he relishes it; all soft, slow swipes of his tongue and languid brushes of his lips like they have all the time in the world and no other way to spend it but this.

"Move in with me," Josh says when their lips separate with a little smack.

"What?" George asks. That does seem terribly fast.

"Not like. Not. _Separate bedrooms_ ," Josh says and tightens his arms around George's waist, hiding his face in George's chest. "Jordan and I are almost never home at the same time. It gets lonely just Oreo and me."

George feels himself smiling and tightens his own arms around Josh a little, fighting the impulse to press him closer, closer, closer and instead leans down to press a kiss into Josh's quiff, even though there's a bit of spit on his lips and a lot of product in Josh's hair.

"Yeah, okay," he says.

"Really?" Josh asks, lifting his head to stare at him with wide eyes and red cheeks like he'd been expecting any answer but this one.

"Really," George says and kisses Josh's forehead. Josh's eyes fall closed for a moment and when George pulls back and they open up again they shine happily. The ring of Josh's arms around his waist loosens a bit, his fingers stapled together behind George's back and his arms resting on his hips and George rests his own on Josh's shoulders and scratches through the short hair at the base of his head.

"How long have you been wanting to do that then?" he asks, knowing that Josh will know he's referring to the kiss. The blush comes back to Josh's face and he drops George's gaze, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. George lift a hand to pry it loose.

Josh sighs.

"A while," he finally says and George is pretty sure that it's a longer while than he might want George to believe. It's not like it really matters anyway. Josh goes back to biting on his lip and George taps him gently with a finger and a softly admonishing "hey".

"But you, you're not. I mean. You're not still...?" Josh asks, trailing off, unsure how to phrase his question. Jaymi, George thinks.

"No," he says. "No, I'm not. I mean... about us, I've never..."

He's not sure how to say ‘I've never thought about you like that before’ in a way that won't sound hurtful, so he waves his hand about instead, hopes Josh lets him get away without having to say it. He sighs and settles his hand back on Josh's shoulder, pulling at his earlobe a little teasingly until a smile pops up on Josh's face that he mirrors with his own.

"But we can try. I want to try," he says. If the way his brain lit up and his knees went weak is any indication of what being... whatever this is with Josh, then he definitely, definitely wants to try.

"Okay," Josh says, smiling up at him happily and then tilting his chin in a clear invitation for another kiss. This one is just as sweet and just as unhurried and quickly becoming one of George's favourites. Josh's hands fidget with his t-shirt for a bit before just pulling him in closer again. George swears he's smiling into their kiss a bit and thinks it's ridiculous that this seems to be what's making Josh so happy. He has to concede though that with Oreo brushing up against his legs again, the excitement of their career in the back of his mind and the gentle smacking of their lips, he can't imagine being being much happier either.

 

**The End**


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